First Rule: Shame me, Outwit me, but never LOVE me
by L.Vadyr
Summary: The first rule we all kept to stay together. A reincarnation finds her past life in a diary. Two souls that love the same man. "For your sake, and for the sake of justice, you can never Love me Holmes." Rated for Language. Pairings. Chapter 5 Updated 9/10
1. December 26

I've been meaning to post one of my many MANY Sherlock Holmes fanfictions on but never had the courage to, like my many MANY DMC fanfics. Asian modesty. Damn nice time to kick in I'd say. Anywho, this story is actually sparked by years and years of refining, rethinking, and changing continuously. Heck, I don't even know if this series has an ending yet (don't stone me! ) but for now, I like the theme and the plot.

**First Rule: SHAME ME, OUTWIT ME, BUT NEVER **_**LOVE**_** ME.**

...

.A Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction.

* * *

December 26th

* * *

I found this diary in an attic, at my family's cottage in Japan one dramatized stormy night. It was indeed stormy, fit for the discovery that was waiting to unfold. I had traveled over to my mother's homeland during the winter for my annual snow shoveling and solitary enjoyment in the woods near Yatsugatake, Nagano. Of course, my most favorite uncle came with me as he did always and would watch TV and type away at his computer working for the large electric company he worked at while I would do my American teenage quirks fooling around in the snow and making snowmen, tracking foxes and deer, calling my friends back in the tropic weather where snow ceased to exist and boasting to them; those sort of things. We would clean the house during the first week or two before we both parted our ways in the house through the traditional Ômisoka (an annual cleanup of a house to welcome a fresh new year and a fresh new start). It usually ended before the actual day to clean up so we could both get ready to do absolutely nothing.

Back to the diary, I totally believed it was my grandmother's at first. (Excuse my modern way of speech.) I was hyped, wondering what sorts of secrets she kept. I had no intention of telling her that I had found her diary, and although it seemed immature, I wanted this all for myself. Maybe after I finished reading it, I would casually tell her. But the fact that I held a piece of history drugged my senses, being one who loved stories and particularly, old ones. As I opened the first page it went like this.

..

_January 1800's?  
the Flat_

_First Rule: Shame me, Outwit me, but never Love me. _

_That was the rule we promised to keep._

_It seemed foolish, in demanding such a rule in many ways including the person I kept it with, and his persona alone making the later part seem almost…preposterous. But I knew that I couldn't take chances. Call it woman's intuition, or farce but some things just happen sometimes._

_He didn't argue with it either. We decided to keep our relationship professional, and we grew to love each other without the romance over the years, something along the lines of more then friends less then lovers. That sort of Americanized thing. Of course, there were many…close calls along our path, and in the end (which was actually not even close to the 'end' end)…we were forced to break it for the sake of our good friend but nevertheless my dear detective and I have been doing fairly well._

_This autobiography…I know will be read by more then just my nosy partner who is at the current moment watching me scribble this down from the corner of his eyes, chuckling at my "illegible American adolescent writing" sitting on his chair with his suicidal pipe puffing away like a man deep in thought. Illegible American Adolescent Writing. HA. I should really tell him what his fancy curvy writing looks like to me. Reader, to this day I wonder why I admired a man like him even before I met him._

_The reason I wanted to write this diary is for my audience to understand what I went through and hopefully feel…exhilarated. Ecstatic. Over-joyed. Really. _

_My entrapped reader, welcome to the world that you will experience and be utterly seduced by its complexity and dramatized emotions. All names will be changed to a more…known name for the sake of their __**privacies**__, hahahahaha. Haha. As for the mysterious man I have spent my life with, lets just stick with calling him Mr. Sherlock Holmes for his personality. _

_As much as I enjoy having my autobiography read, I advise you, NOT to read to the ending._

..

The first page was interesting. In fact, I loved that my ancestor (whom I now definitely knew was NOT grandmother from the English and the puns) had a taste for the detective Sherlock Holmes too. It was…AWESOME. It was also in fairly modern language, for something that was written in the 1800's, but to me at that moment was just another ignorant blissful lucky coincidence. The end was however…confusing. It was as if she foreshadowed an event to come, and the diary was not much filled in, only half-way at the most until ultimate whiteness as I flipped through it casually not looking at the words clearly to save the story. Part of me wanted to read it all and read it NOW, being my nature to finish books quick to move on to the next. I had finished all my novels a few days ago. My brain was thirsting for words. But this…this was too special for just one night. I sighed loudly, it dripping with acid and irritation at my impatience as I closed the diary and replaced it in the small crack in the edge of the walls behind my TV and game console cabinet. I wasn't going to show it to my uncle just yet. I wanted to bask in the feeling of keeping a secret to myself, like a little kid.

...

**Author's Notes.**

I think this story really started forming in my head since I read the Mary Russell Series (with being in somewhat denial at first for Holmes having a wife. A REALLY YOUNG ONE at that. But hey, I loved it to death by the time the Beekeeper's Apprentice was done. :P)

I had already felt that I was going to SOMEDAY write (or if not, DRAW) out a story for my most favorite non-real? Person in the world and give him an apprentice. Waaaay before I knew the existence of Mary Russell. And a female one at that. So now you know what this story is about. Holmes and his apprentice. Hope I didn't spoil it for ya. I know I didn't spoil it ALL though. So Holmes got himself a apprentice, BUT under one occasion.

The title.

Yes, the title. Yes, if you have read it and not skipped to the endnotes you'd know the rules have been broken. Regardless. The show must go on.

And I leave you in a cliffy. is stoned

Reviews are gratified, Compliments are welcomed, Flames are criticized. Choose wisely.

Here's a question for you readers…should I make a poem ending for the disclaimer or possibly ending like the Something was Missing DMC fanfiction?


	2. December 30

Yay, 19 hits! I actually didn't think that anyone would read a Sherlock Holmes fan fiction. Firstly, it was because Sherlock Holmes isn't known by anyone, or at the least liked by anyone I know around me in my life. The closest had been my grandmother and she's been dead for a good eight years. My mother's friend likes Sherlock Holmes, but the Basil Rathborne series to him is a joke. I liked the actor's impersonation of Holmes, his little "ha!" remarks to Watson's (whom I thought was awesome, IF it was pure comedy. Comedy Watson and Drop-Dead Accurate Holmes… NOT a good mix-together) comments and his small flashing smiles that disappeared as soon as it 'looked' like he smiled. And to me, secondly, I've always cherished the true Sir Arthur Conan Doyle series, admiring and loving the original 'sardonic smiling', 'horrible roommate' of the detective Sherlock Holmes was to Watson. His unbelievable charisma (Watson's that is) towards the Detective, and the amount of faith and interest he had in modern views might have made people think of the following words as my classmates have told me after I read to them a few of the detective and the good doctor's lines.

"Wow…that sounds so _**gay.**_"

It's saddening that to an average teenager the words "He had left me for marriage, I was all alone," equaled to a forbidden love (back then in their time setting) and that they didn't quite see the truth there. Maybe it was because they never read Sherlock Holmes. Nevertheless, to me, it seems that they really had a good friendship going on there, even to make me jealous of my current friendship with my closest friend. It's true. Just ask Chelsie.

But the thought of Sherlock Holmes 'unknowingly' falling in love with a male character is intriguing. Really. It's almost like a Shakespearian Comedy, funny only if you know back then. With a twist of modernization, hopefully I can pull this through.

Well, enough talking, and back to the story (:

* * *

**First Rule: SHAME ME, OUTWIT ME, BUT NEVER **_**LOVE**_** ME**

…

.A Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction.

* * *

December 30th

* * *

It was the day before the last day of the year when I couldn't take it anymore. Raising my head from the sink, I traced the faint dark shadows under my eyes and sighed. Five days. Two weeks to go. Hell, I wanted to strangle myself.

It's maddening how time can pass by so slowly. Every year, I had looked forward to this trip, being alone with my favorite uncle, minding our own business and doing absolutely nothing that had to do with the civilization a world away outside the forest in Nagano. The only connection to the outside was my computer that I had barely touched since I came here that only permitted me to use emails, my uncle's computer, and the antique rotary phone that I loved to death. The world I had created to soothe me had now changed to a prison cell, all from the discovery of this book. The book was torturing my sanity, from not being able to show it to the world, my world. The only person was my uncle, and he wasn't interested in Sherlock Holmes. In fact, nobody I knew was interested in Sherlock Holmes as much as I was. It was an unhealthy obsession that every mother didn't want her child to have.

I would like to borrow the stage here at the moment, while also breaking the fourth wall by strongly, Strongly saying that my passion towards Sherlock Holmes was NOT fangirl-ism.  
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle has one said in his famous writings, "One of the most dangerous classes in world is the drifting and friendless woman." I would precisely be that woman right now. Closed away form civilization and utterly BORED. To the max.

...I wanted to read it.

I had told my friend about the diary the same night I had found it over the old rotary at three in the morning. Her voice was sweet to my ears, and I felt freedom I hadn't touched for a good two weeks. I was..happy. Ironic.

"You haven't called lately."

"You won't _believe_ what I found!"

"It's been two weeks. I thought a bear ate you."

"It was behind my PS3 and the TV! Oh man, if only you were here!"

"Are you even listening to me?" Her voice faintly hinted drowsiness although it was still noon at her time as I calmed down and told her about the story. I had read aloud to her the first entry as well as the following ones about their first few cases at London involving one about a rich pink diamond, another of an star-crossed love, and the final, a adventurous chase after a villain couple that the two had to go undercover as husband and wife. My dear friend seemed to be interested about the last story the most. She had given a few exclamations of awe and humor as I read about them having to closely maneuver around a dangerous question from a housewife then having to share the same bed rather uncomfortably, to the point of the detective addressed as Mr. Sherlock Holmes. But it wasn't the facy that the woman was living with her partner as husband and wife that made us laugh.

It was the fact that the woman had kept a secret to the man, that she was a _she_.

…

_December  
Second Year  
Devonshire_

_I cannot believe that he never noticed until now. Do I not look that much like a lady? After our chase from the couple, we had finally settled back into the Flat. That's when it happened._

_It was just a silly mistake. I had fallen asleep in Sherlock's bed and he had climbed in. I hadn't worn my tight vest that had held my breasts in and him being sleepy and mostly unconscious had snuggled into them. I was shocked and stayed up the whole night. The morning had not been a nice one. I recall him yelling at me for the first half an hour til Watson came and yelled at him at what was going in. I recall him blushing red furiously, a composition I had never seen him in. He was so…out of his own self, that it was quite impossible to believe that this was the same person I had shared beds with in the former chase. I guess being with a woman really did shake him; he wasn't quite the romantic fellow nor a womanizer. In fact, he didn't even dare come near women from the work he did. I knew that. That was why I kept it from him._

_Then, he disappeared. To one of his little 'secret rooms' most likely that were scattered across London. I had waited for him patiently, knowing that he would come back someday. _

_He did come back, after a week…sort of. I had noticed the room being used and things being moved around and my guess was he was at Watson's. Poor Doctor. The pipe was missing. And so was the seven percent solution. I could deduce what was going on at the Doctor's house much to the disdain of the doctor. Poor Doctor._

_I was very much hurt by this time, after a good three weeks. I hadn't seen a glimpse of Holmes, and although Watson had said that he was fine, I most certainly wasn't fine. I was hurt. Was it shocking that I was a woman? Did he hate women that much? After I write this paragraph I'm setting out to apologize to him at Watson's then look for a lodge to stay in separately. I can't bear to live in this room that have traces of him everywhere._

_I felt uncomfortable around him, for the very first time. _

…

There were only a few pages after that entry in the middle. I had finished half of the diary with my friend.

There was utter silence for a good ten minutes after I finished reading. I had snapped back to reality after my uncle had tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I had finished talking. "Hey…you still there?"

"Yeah."

"That was…."

"Yeah. I know." I had looked at the rotary phone quietly, absorbing the last words in.

"………Do you think I'll get copyrighted if I post this as fanfiction?" I could feel the tension evaporating from the atmosphere as she laughed and yelled my name in an exasperated tone of voice. "I mean come on!_ Think of the review and hit numbers this thing could get._"

"Is that all you can think of right now?"

"What else is there to think of?" I had lied through my teeth and she knew it. We had talked briefly about our own experiences after that, I about deerstalking and she about watching a Opera Concert. After setting the phone down I had looked up into the eyes of my uncle and smiled sheepishly at his frown.

"That was quite a long talk there. Two hours on the phone? Is this why you're staying away from your family, for two hours on the phone?"

"Sorry… I won't talk any longer. Two Hours max. " He chuckled at my response then walked away muttering about teenagers and love stories. He had eavesdropped on my journal reading. I blushed faintly, then retreated back into my room, holding the book close to my hand.

I had (with help from my uncle) changed the attic into a haven. I had various game machines and a TV scattered across the room. A large sofa-bed, and a fireplace. There was one window, and a section of a side of the wall was like a garage door, for the summer. It was nice and warm and comfy and it wasn't uncommon to hear animal life outside the garage door; fox or deer that came to share the warmth radiating from my walls.

The last entry had been a disturbing one. In a way, I was now venturing farther and farther away from reading a piece of historical biography and instead a fanfiction written a long time ago. Now, even doubting if this even happened, and that my ancestor had the time to write this 'fanfiction' during her spare time in a really interesting way.

Nevertheless, I patiently waited til the New Year, when I would be spending my time quietly reading the diary in Nagano on the sofa-bed, with my friend who had agreed to come to Nagano with me to experience the snow.

…

**Author's Notes**

I don't have much to write after being thoroughly pooped by this chapter. It's passing by rather quickly, quicker then I thought so I have to stop and think for a while about it.

The Main Character's name and the friend's name will be revealed somewhat later on in the story. As well as the name of the woman who wrote the diary.


	3. January 5

I'm on a roll :9

I'm on a roll :9

**Harpy Sister of the Lights:** I was waiting for your comment. And wow, it's the first comment too! Thanks for the review and the compliment, and how dare ye! I've yet to FULLY drop a story….yet to…

coughs

Well… onward we go.

* * *

**First Rule: SHAME ME, OUTWIT ME, BUT NEVER **_**LOVE**_** ME**

…

.A Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction.

* * *

January 5th

* * *

"Well it took you long enough." My friend growled back at my acidic remark as she wrapped the scarf around her face tighter, and shoved her hands into her pockets. Briefly hugging in welcome first, we slowly made our way though the asphalt road to my cottage. "My uncle is away on a business trip, so he won't be here to listen to the last entry of the book with us."

"I thought he never left til the trip was over."

"It was an emergency."

"Ah." Turning the old key, the lock unlocked with a _ping_ and creaked open. "…Some old cottage."

"But I love it." She hadn't heard my response and exclaimed at the old-fashioned furnishing inside. Right next to the door were stairs, leading to the second floor living room and the first floor held nothing but a bathroom, a small closet, one room with a bunk bed, and my 'safe haven'. We brushed the snow from our clothes and piled it on the rack near the heater, then rushed upstairs for hot chocolate.

The first thing I showed her was the rotary phone, which she laughed at and remarked exactly what I deduced her to say.

"That is SO like you, Lisa."

"I know, huh." I scratched my head as I opened the curtains, and startled a doe, which started off. Chelsie gasped, then pouted, complaining to why I hadn't opened it slower. "Oh geez, you'll see more later on."

The idea of her coming to my cottage for our last year together before we set out for college was my idea entirely. I loved my cottage and always wanted to show her. Chelsie was a nature lover though not a tree-hugger, and she, to my satisfaction, loved the nice little solitary house too.

For a good hour we talked, reminiscing about high school life and our future that lay ahead of us while sitting at the table on chairs with our feet up, warming our hands with mugs of hot steaming chocolate. I talked about going to college in the American State away from our hometown to the east coast. Chelsie, I knew was going to stay at our hometown and the university there to pursue a degree in literature. She had always loved books as much as I have although a different genre. I was a worm for general, but mostly Sherlockian. She loved fantasy. We had often teased each other with name calling along the lines of,

"So, what are you up to now here my Narcissist Holmes?"

"Well, my Sarcastic Watson. Ever since that diary, I've been kept up all night."

And such. After making a short dinner I led her down to my attic, where she laughed in irony at my DDR machine and oohed aahed at my TV and game console set. We sat on the sofa bed warming up at the fireplace, when I took the small diary out of my pocket.

"Is this the diary?"

"Yup." I handed it to her, and she took it with great care, stroking the half eaten leather slowly. "Nothing interesting happened after that one entry. I think in the end, she's just gonna say that she left him, got a new life and now his personality is forever in her heart or something like that."

"That would suck."

"It would. I would slap her." Chelsie merely murmured at my reply and looked at the fireplace. "So, do you want to read the story now?" I had said after a long period of silence, and she had turned around looking rather surprised.

"Aren't you gonna read it with your uncle too?"

"You know I can't wait that long. Besides, I can always read it to him later on." She laughed at my impatience then, brought her feet up and beckoned me to read the last entry while hugging her knees.

I flipped the old pages of the book, as I turned to the last entry and read it aloud.

...

_November  
Sixth Year  
Three days after date of birth_

_France_

_The last entry I read has been three years ago. I cannot believe that such time has already passed. Has it been that long since I've seen him? Anyhow, let me write the contents of what happened since three years have gone by._

_True to my word, I had left his flat with my minimal possessions and with the help of dear Mycroft had found a small villa in France. It wasn't as busy as London, but in the place of modern life, I had found a new partner. Not to go work with however, but to pursue as a detective of affairs._

_Arsène__ Lupin._

_The great Gentleman Thief._

_He does steal everything any anything that shines brightly with a good cost and fortune. I had received a small rose-scented card from the Thief Lord himself writing as followed._

_**At midnight of the day the full moon, I shall steal your heart.**_

_Ooh, what a player. True to his word he did come to my bed and attempted to take me away, until my Smith and Wesson was pointed directly at his monocle. With a kiss and 'adieu mon ange' he vowed to steal it when my love was at it's peak._

_I had never known what he meant til two months ago._

_I had been kidnapped by Lupin yet again, but this time he was successful. Over a few days I had come to realize that he was indeed a gentleman and didn't dare lay a finger on me unless I allowed him (which I did not). I was given a luxurious room, a spotted terrier, and piles and PILES of clothes. Treated rather nicely. He kept calling me by 'mon ange', which I came to get used to, after a while. I was kept in his mansion til the date of my birth, and on midnight was taken to the ballroom._

_I had not expected to see him._

_He had not changed much. In fact, he looked as if four years had never gone by. Black hair and piercing grey eyes unlike Lupin's shimmery blond and angelic blue, but both with the gaze of a predator._

"_Mon ange," Lupin had began and held me by the waist, something that he had never done before. As a reflex I immediately began to push myself away from him but stopped when a cold shock hit me and looked in the direction from it's origin. Lupin smiled at the response and held me tighter, beginning once again. "Mon ange, tonight is the night you will choose your partner in dance." He looked down at me with warmth then continued, letting go of me and in replace, a single white rose tucked into my ear._

"_I have searched far and wide for a woman, with intellectual beauty but none have been as seducing…as alluring as you, Amelia. Your exotic beauty, your intelligence, your smile. Everything has been pulling me, to the brink of insanity from Lust. Mon ange, as I have told you once before, I will never let go of something I have sent a card after."_

_I was baffled at the confession he had given me. He laughed lightly at my response and kissed my hair, another glare from the other man._

"_Yet…" Lupin continued, and looked at Sherlock Holmes. "In your eyes, I do not see my reflection. In your smile I do not see love. Your dark clear eyes reflect a grey, your smile shows hints of a sardonic personality. For four years you have left him, but he has always been a part of you."_

_I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me, but I was more taken then he was. Lupin watched me softly as I retraced the cases and the final case, the chase we both sought after. Then I remembered when he discovered who I really was. Did I really think of him? I had forgotten all about him._

"_No, you haven't mon cherie," The Count had come up to me again and smiled once more, but sadly. "You always look back at a tall figure in the streets with jet black hair. You always look up, with a gasp when you hear an English Accent. You use the seven percent solution." He rubbed my arm gingerly, and then rolled up the satin sleeve revealing a small red dot._

"_Amery…" Holmes had now spoken, looking at me, glaring at me. _

"_It's Amelia." Lupin corrected Holmes, and received a monstrous glare, which was shaken off like a fly before he continued. "Sherlock Holmes, your passion in pursuing true deduction has made you blind to everything else. The appearance of this lady has driven you off the path of the detective into something more…deeply. More meaningful. Love. It is something you've too late have learned, something you need. Romance is the art of the thief, and the detective who pursues the thief. You have led a life without love. You do not deserve such a lady as your accomplice."_

_I could say nothing. I felt like I was trapped between the darkness and the light, although these two were both wielders of darkness. I loved both and yearned for both to pursue what they believed in. I was trapped._

"_Mon cherie," Lupin looked at me, one final time. "I do not mind which one you choose, or whom you choose. I will always love you. I will always care for you." He kissed my hand before turning around, "Now, I believe it's your partner's turn to express his thought by-"_

...

"….WHAT THE HELL!"

"Lisa!" Chelsie whipped her head around to face me, surprised either from me not interrupting til now, or interrupting at all. "…What?"

"I don't want to read the end." I clenched the book, my hands slightly shaking. "I…but I want to read it."

"Then read it."

"But I don't want to!" I held the page, the last page before ultimate whiteness. "But… I want to." Chelsie sighed before asking warmly.

"Would you like me to read it for you?"

"….no." I slowly exhaled as I turned the page around.

...

_After Lupin had left, Holmes and I stood in total silence unable to look at each other. I knew he was not going to start the conversation, so I laughed lightly, which turned his head up to mine._

"_How is Watson?" It must've been my imagination when he looked slightly disappointed._

"_He has a daughter and two sons."_

"_Ha, I guess he was busy." I never looked at Holmes still and rolled my sleeve back down. I heard air escape from his lips, knowing that he was about to say something about my usage of his solution, but then he closed it. "I think Holmes, that you should pursue your deductions…Wait til I finish explaining. Ladies first." I had interrupted his about-to-talk face first before looking up and taking a good look at him._

_He was still handsome. He looked slightly worn out, but his eyes were sharp and piercing. His hairline had gone back, just so slightly, that only I would notice in this world. He had a scar on his neck, and I was about to ask, but stopped. He still held the same composure. But something was different. He never looked at me like a man anymore. His eyes were…mixed. He looked troubled. _

_I didn't want him to look troubled._

"_Holmes… the world needs a detective like you, with your intellect. With you deductions. The world needs someone like you. You shant think that a mere woman is more important for the world. That is for romantic fellows like Lupin. Holmes…"_

_I dared not say that I loved him. My eyes screamed them out instead with tears as I muttered._

_  
"I wish I was born a man."_

"_No." Holmes had said but I interrupted him again._

"_I was not meant for this era, to go to you. You were to be adventurous with Dr. Watson, not Amelia who doesn't even know her last name."_

"_No."_

"_After the doctor wrote the Sign of Four and left you, I wasn't supposed to magically appear in front of your doorstep."_

"_No."_

"_Holmes…I"_

"_No. Amery." I stopped when I heard the name I had always heard Holmes call me when I was a man. "…Amelia."_

"_I like Amery better."_

"_Amery." Holmes chuckled at my response, and then replied shortly looked at me with the most passionate look I have ever received from any man._

"_The game is afoot. Watson is needed by his wife. I need an accomplice."_

_It was Holmes. I couldn't contain my tears as I nodded briefly, and Holmes smiled back in reply. I immediately turned around and dashed up the stairs, then turned around and looked at Holmes. "Let me talk to Lupin." He looked troubled at the fact but let me go anyways, and I rushed to his room and opened the door when-_

...

"…again?" Chelsie looked at me when she noticed that I had stopped talking for a good minute or two. "What? Lupin died?" I said nothing as Chelsie, looked over at the pages where the last words were written and froze.

The two pages were covered in blood. I had never noticed the blood when I was flipping the pages. To me, they seemed as if they magically appeared out of nowhere. We both stared in silence as the fire blazed before us. I flipped through the rest of the book. It was white, like when I checked before.

"…So whose blood is this? Amelia's? Lupin's? ………Or Holmes's?" I asked Chelsie as she merely shook her head. "Is this why she told us in the beginning not to read it?"

"Maybe. Maybe she was too mentally unstable to write the ending anymore. Maybe while she was writing this she-" I stopped at the thought and shivered. Maybe while she was writing this she died.

"..But it was a nice story. With the dramatic scene at the end." Chelsie said as I nodded. I flipped through the whole book again, and noticed that the cover had the address of the Baker Street Flat scribbled onto it. "Well in any rate…what do we do now?" I shrugged my shoulders and sighed.

"I am pooped after reading this all. It's gonna keep me nice and full til the end of the trip that's for sure. DDR battle tomorrow?"

"You're on."

The phone rang.

…

**Author's Notes**

I. Am. Pooped. Tired. Out. Eight pages. One bottle of soda wasn't enough. (flops back into the chair)

So, did you like the story?

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…

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…

…

haha, I was kidding. This is not the end of the story. I have more.

There's MUCH more.

Chelsie and Lisa are seriously overused in my stories. They've been used in every other story I've written. Why? Because they're easy to use. Modern names.

I hope you liked it this far, reviews are welcome! Critiques are welcome, flames will be burned.


	4. January 14

Hey you guys, Chapter 4 is up and so far posting at least one chapter a day is probably not going to continue for long. School and studies, drama and band. The many worlds that circle mine equal to a hectic life. But hey, I always find time for myself, hahaha.

**FoggyKnight** brought this up, so I would like to talk a little about Arsené Lupin.

If Sherlock Holmes is the detective of the Literary World, Arsené Lupin is the thief.

Sherlock Holmes as we all know is a man of deductions, or in modern terms, choicing educational guesses, collecting clues, then justifying them one by one. He doesn't fondle with love, or romance, and the most, WOMEN (in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's original series excluding Irene Adler and the other females that came _close_) but he does have an everlasting friendship with Dr. Watson that is also immaturely mistaken as being GAY. Whatever, perspective. We all have it.

Arsené Lupin finds his theft as a art of Romance and Beauty, in a way like Holmes because the detective is absolutely CRAZY about his work BUT, is entirely different at the same time. He was created by Maurice Leblanc and is quite popular in the more, romantical world of mystery. Although he is a Phantom Thief, he is a force of justice, on the wrong side of law. His _le French_ ways and panache give him a charisma every reader will fall in love with. He's a witty and sly player, but an ally of Love. Unlike the Holmes series, the ones Lupin steals from are almost always a worse villain then the thief himself giving sympathy and amor for the one who steals more then the one who is stolen from.

As you might have guessed by now, Holmes meeting Lupin was BOUND to happen, in Literature anyways. Anyone heard of Lupin verses Herlock Sholmes? Yes, it's actually Sherlock Holmes, just that Doyle demanded copyright so Leblanc changed his name. It's quite sad thinking about it now. All Leblanc needed to write was,

"Sherlock Holmes belongs to Doyle."

right?

...

I'm just kidding with you. I've heard that the Lupin and Holmes topic is very touchy but I love both, well more so Holmes, but Lupin as well so to them, they're just another bunch of people that come into my dreams and give me ideas about this story, ha. But regardless there have been a few stories about the thief and the detective. Two people by passion destined to meet each other for their 'art'.

gives you shivers dont'cha think?

* * *

**First Rule: SHAME ME, OUTWIT ME, BUT NEVER **_**LOVE**_** ME**

…

.A Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction.

* * *

January 14th

* * *

I was unable to forget about the diary, even after a week of snow fights and activities. The somewhat enchanting affair that Amelia had with Lupin that was the truest form of love. The relationship deeper then love that resided between Holmes and Amery. In modern civilization, such 'drama' would be intolerable to the modern man. It would have been impossible for such a meeting to occur out of the realm of books.

I found myself thinking about the diary, pondering about why such a novella existed in this old cottage. Lisa had shown me the crack where she had found it. Was it really a fanfiction? Could this have really happened? It didn't seem like it would come close to fact but the very idea was...plausible. Perhaps the choice of names gave it a more fanfictional appearance? I would never know.

I knew that Lisa couldn't stop thinking about the book either. I heard the significant crisp sound of the old yellowed paper, and the faint scent of moldy ink and mildew, the alluring character of a good old book filled with mysteries. It was always in the middle of the night, every night since she showed me the day I came. She had, in my view, already forgotten about the other cases and only showed interest in the last entry, the last bloodstained page.

Yesterday, I had asked Lisa to borrow the book to examine it. Her reaction was horrifying and shocking. Her eyes wide as if I had bashed a child's head against the wall in front of her as her mouth stretched into a tight line. She seemed very reluctant, and I meekly took my request back and instead asked for the last entry to be read to me. I couldn't do anything to her persistent behavior, her weird attraction to the book. I didn't mind though, that was Lisa.

That's how she always was. Self-centered only to those who knew her best. With a sharp wit and equally quick (and horrible) mouth she was my friend since middle school. Her heart was more fragile then a glass rose. Her mentality towards the world was so strong, so...unbiased and like a sponge. But she was torn inside. Often she would tell me of her being two different people, one who resides in the darkness. Both were true to a point, but both unconditionally, expressed her. I couldn't change that and loved her instead, for who she was in the light.

In a way, Sherlock Holmes was her passion and life, and although there were times when she would show glimpses of fangirlism and spoke of him with a dreamy look in her eyes she was for sure, not a fangirl.

Her love for him was much deeper then that.

It was as if she knew him in flesh and blood. In a way... it was terrifying. But it was Lisa being Lisa; something I lived and cherished.

Watching her protectively hold the book like a mother bear watching over her children brought back flashes of the past, of the memory my good friend and I had on the last day of school.

Never in my seventeen years of life back then had I been so utterly amazed as I have been, then at that Graduation. A hopeless romantic poet would have narrated of lush green beginning to lose their color and of fall winds bringing lonely souls closer together in such the weather of that day. I however, was not a hopeless romantic, nevertheless a romantic of weather or sorts of me shivering in the Autumn winds where they ceased to exist in this tropic weather. The winds that blew with between the string of Islands were always a holy gift, welcomed in the blazing sun. Only there was no sun that so 'night' and the sweat on our skin had started to chill us. I sat beside Lisa, motionless and silent. Lisa had just stopped talking after explaining about her classes and the teachers; high school pep talk.

_"Chelsie."_ She had spoke, almost in a whisper. I glanced at her in lazy response as she continued. _"I wrote another story and you were main character with me."_ I chuckled in response, which most likely she deduced, and replied.

_"Don't you always?"_

_"Hn."_ Her face soured as I couldn't help but break into laughter. _"Oh come on! It's not like you were the snoozy protagonist! You were in between with Professor Moriarty and Mycroft Holmes!"_

To this I was mildly surprised. She usually kept all characters she knew close to herself and good, with the exception of one friend who persisted she be the antagonist if ever used in any of Lisa's wild fantastical melodies on paper. _"Besides," _she continued. _"I need a character like you in my story. It won't flow with just me."_

_"Whatever__ you say."_ I nodded in reply with the response and looked back at the sky outside her window.

_"I wish I could meet Sherlock Holmes."_

_"And not your video-game characters?"_ She growled at me as I cocked my eyebrow back at her. Police cars with their rather obnoxious sirens were heard in the distance as Lisa and I laughed together and had walked back into the kitchen for a midnight raid.

It was a memory I had oddly never forgotten. Maybe it was the way Lisa said those words with eyes filled with desperation and honesty, and also sadness, of the truth that was probably never going to happen to her. As I recalled this past memory Lisa had been watching me the whole time and cocked her head to one side, finally breaking the silence.

"What were you thinking about?"

"..Remember the time you said you wanted to meet Sherlock Holmes?"

"But I always say that."

"True..." Lisa laughed as she took our mugs of hot tea and set them in the sink turning on the cold freezing tap water.

"I remember it Chelsie. Wasn't it at Graduation?"

"Yep."

"Didn't my mom scold us after that when she caught us raiding the fridge?"

"Yep."

* * *

I had totally forgot about that memory with Chelsie. But my slight dream to meet Sherlock Holmes was true. I had a rather long history with the great detective beginning with being having read A_ Study in Scarlet _and _The Hound of Baskervilles _as a bedtime story by my dear sweet grandmother. I had read all the collection of stories by him by my fourth year in grade school and was fully aware of his cocaine addiction. (not very happy news to my parents of course)

In essence, I may be classified as a fangirl. IN SLIGHT FANTASY-LIKE FAINT ESSENCE. In the many descriptions of Sherlock Holmes it is sure to say that he was handsome, and my taste in men have certainly been fashioned after him. However, having read of him day-in and day-out I believe that my personal views of him developed before I cared of physical features during my elementary years. I loved him. I loved Sherlock Holmes for his brain.

His deductions seemed like magic to my young eyes. Now, I was able to follow him in his steps when they were stated, before Doyle told them all. But while I first listened to my grandmother reading _A Study in Scarlet_ and came to where Holmes and Watson met, it was enough to keep me up all night on a high. As I became capable of understanding more of his cases dealing with cheating wives and deceiving adults I admired his calm appearance and composure on the outside while talking to his excited clients, his calming and soothing nature to his clients (sometimes, haha), his talent of disguise, and his sleazy remarks to poor Watson. Although inwardly I would have hated to live with him.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I found an old journal and guess what was inside?? This entry, well about my history of Holmes. I guessed that I was bored and decided to write about it. My grandmother really liked Sherlock Holmes and my influence of his love came from her. I really did finish reading all the series by fourth grade, for which my teacher knows me forever for. She calls me her little "baker street irregular" since and bought me a deerstalker cap for my birthday present in fifth grade before I left for a Public Middle School.

This chapter didn't have Amery in it! I just noticed. I also noticed that none of them have had contact with Holmes and Watson yet either. All the other fanfictions are about him and a OC meeting and falling in love. Well in a sense, the diary shows a part of this but Amery isn't the narrator...hehe.

This is just the beginning so, sorry but please bear with it. It takes a good prep to support the middle and finale right?

Reviews are Welcome, Critiques are Welcome, Flames would be burned to make bigger flames. Thanks for reading this far! My love for all.


	5. January 19

Change of plan, this story is beginning to change in my head. Hopefully I can at least pull through the First Rule..

But… Woots! Two Chapters in a row for two days in a row! Something must be sincerely wrong with me. But at least it's going faster then the DMC one right? That one…I must work on…

...

...

Moving on!

_Alert: All references that I disclaim as not my original ideas and lines are italicized__. References are written at the bottom._

* * *

**First Rule: SHAME ME, OUTWIT ME, BUT NEVER **_**LOVE**_** ME**

…

.A Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction.

* * *

January 19th

* * *

Wind howled and rattled my garage door as I woke, yawned, and shivered. Slipping into a pair of tight low-rising boot-cut jeans, an _under-armor _top, and a black no-sleeve woolen turtleneck I moved to the door, reconsidered, snatched the hoodie and proceeded to the bunk-bed room where Chelsie was already awake. The house was dead quiet save her video-game noises from her DS coming behind the door. The house was also dark but light enough to see. We both usually slept in the same bunk bed room but I had stayed up all night playing videogames and had fallen asleep early in the morning. True to my educated guess, when I checked my wristwatch it was well into the afternoon.

"_Awesome Center: Under the Awesome_†." Chelsie had smirked and nodded as I peered at her playing her DS on the top bunk. Although not freezing cold, the bunk bed room was much colder then my game room without the electricity craze and fireplace it was a simple room that had nothing but a small window, a bunk bed, one full view mirror, and a reading lamp. I had watched Chelsie do several operation missions before asking if she had eaten lunch. She pointed to the empty dish next to her then added,

"The light went out sometime around 12."

"What!? I just fixed it last week when a Raccoon chewed the lock out!" I grumbled as I slipped out of the room and returned quickly with a black leather coat and gloves. Chelsie looked at me and laughed as she commented.

"You look like _Gackt_†† with that outfit."

"I'm bringing sexy back, that's what." I stuck my tongue out at her and mimicked his low heavy voice as Chelsie pushed me out of the house laughing her ass off.

"Hurry up and go fix the broker." I closed before any more cold air could fly inside the warm house and trudged through the thigh-high snow. The atmosphere was candidus, breathtaking, and godly, but I had to focus on more important things first. Like getting the electricity back on.

Although light on the top, the snow was packed near the ground and pretty soon I was practically swimming my way to the back of the house. The hinge was broken and the cover was flapping wildly in the wind. "Raccoons…" I muttered dangerously low and turned on the switch with one hand, holding up the cover with the other. The light didn't appear in the house. "That's weird…" I pulled my glove off of my left hand with my teeth and first fixed the hinge before reaching towards the switch again. I heard a crackle of electricity as I reached to turn the switch up, then slowly down. My fingers were cold and damp from the snow as they slipped and touched a cord covered with plastic,

Or so I thought. Bugs had eaten out the back and all I remember next was a bright light, then sharp pain, and finally total pitch darkness.

* * *

I started worrying after fifteen minutes without the light, and any living response from Lisa. I had heard thunder outside and wondered if it was close by. It was barely heard in the howling wind but I was sure that she heard a sharp crack. After another long five minutes, the wind had died out, and I decided to go look for her, outside. "Maybe she got hit by the lightning.." With the last thought I hastily ran outside without a jacket and in only a single long sleeve shirt and long pants. The door slammed behind me, unlocked.

I wasn't in Nagano anymore. I was standing in an abandoned garden covered with snow. "What the…" Turning around slowly, the cottage had disappeared and in replace, woods. I stood there for a while, what seemed like the longest of time til I noticed that the sky had gotten significantly darker and I couldn't feel my toes and fingers. As any healthy young adult would do at a time of crisis,

I screamed then fell to the ground, my knees giving out from the outburst of stress and confusion.

Immediately after my fall, I heard footsteps. "Who's there? …oh …my goodness!!" A woman cautiously appeared from the edge of the garden from behind the dead cornstalks looking at me with confusion at first as if she didn't knew exactly what I was. Her face turned to horror and she gave a frightened scream when she saw my face and raced towards me kneeling down by my side and lifting me with her frail arms onto her lap. I groaned from the sudden pain from my stiff joints as she shrilled. "Sir! There's a girl! A girl is dead!"

I closed my eyes and exhaled deeply at the pain when I felt warmth and then the sense that someone was lifting me into a pair of strong masculine arms. Opening my eyes, I looked into warm chocolate eyes that looked back at mine as another man, equally tall but also large in size walked over to the woman. I suspected by the choice of clothes that the young man with the chocolate eyes was a pageboy of some sort, the woman was a maid, and the man with the gray-brown sideburns was whom she addressed to as sir. I was right when she had started to explain to him with a crazed expression, exclaiming that I had died in her arms and that she was a killer. The man reassured her that I wasn't dead, with a calm soothing voice. "No she's not dead, her chest is slightly moving, she's still conscious. Now, Rebecca, please go ahead and provide a steaming bath for this young lady while we slowly walk back…no, we mustn't hurry. She's terribly weak, any sudden movement might be ill." He beckoned the young man that held me to follow him as we left the woods.

"Poor girl…her face is blue!" The maid wailed as I was carried into the house and set down at a soft couch. She was ushered away by the pageboy as he disappeared around the corner of the house leaving the man and me alone. He looked at me for a while, and silence overcame the house while he examined me from head to toe like how Lisa used to do while she copied Holmes and I merely waited until he finished his examination.

"You don't seem to be from these parts. Your clothes are too… differently made, American? …You can nod or shake." I nodded. "Aha, one of the sunnier regions, for that would explain your irregular skin color comparing your feet and your hands. It would also explain why you were so blue. You didn't seem like you were out that long for long term frostbite hadn't come but you were already blue. Writing for a hobby?" It took time for me to nod as he laughed.

'It's quite elementary, my dear. Your sleeve is slightly covered in charcoal as well as your hand. You also have a callous from writing too much…and recently…rather hurriedly." I bit the bottom of my lip as I said nothing. The man sighed as he narrowed is eyes and looked at me again. "Now tell me dear…what were you doing over there, in my woods?"

"…I don't know. I found myself there."

"Your family lives around here? Are you here on vacation?"

"No, my family is not here."

"In London then perhaps?"

"No, America. I came with my friend alone, and she's disappeared… Where am I?" The man's lips turned into a straight line as he replied a matter-of-factly.

"This is France, young lady. I shall send you back home after you have warmed up and healed before I have to return to London."

"Thank you…It's Hawaii by the way." The man stopped, then looked at me with pure shock.

"…Where?"

"Hawaii…you know? The 50th State? Island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean?" The man shook his head as I furrowed my brows. _What?_

"I know of a small string of islands being used as a primary target for military location in the middle of the Pacific, but I've heard of none being a state of the United States of America."

"……What date is today Sir?"

"It would be January 19th, 1877."

...†...

**DISCLAIMING QUOTES**

† "Awesome Center: Under the Awesome.": A online flash video by Egoraptor, a comedy parody to the DS game, Trauma Center: Under the Knife.

†† Gackt: a Japanese male visual Rock singer popular in Asia and known as a severe and strange person with odd interests and quirks. Chelsie commented on this not only because Gackt and Lisa shared some similar interests in Gothic Rock and that Lisa enjoyed his music, but because Lisa was _strange_.

...†...

_**Author's Notes:**_

Do people even read these Author Notes? Or more like, do people even read MY author's notes? Is it all a waste of time? Eh, it's a good ranting place.

I think that you'll see a lot of modern quotations from these two, especially from Lisa. I found that it's really easy to write Chelsie, after I read a few pages from the Twilight Series. As for Lisa, it's the Sherlock Holmes series.

Lately, I've been feeling a lot of headaches but regardless I'm writing my fingers away. One flash that would explain all this, "Ultimate Typing." (Reference: Facebook bumper sticker) Anywho, I'm out of names for the pageboy. Anyone have any suggestions?


	6. First Day March 18th

Yarg…This is the big moment. The time of book where it's crunch time. If I don't get over this, I can't go to the fun stuff.

**FoggyKnight:** Thanks for all the reviews! You haven't missed anything; it's just that it's not all there yet. Well, Chelsie and Lisa both are main characters. And you don't know anything about Lisa yet…so… all will be revealed in the end!

**Harpy Sister of the Lights:** You really need to find a shorter name man . I'm glad that my modern speech amused you. The transitions...will be explained in this chapter hopefully. As for the name for the pageboy... way ahead of you darling ;)

* * *

**First Rule: SHAME ME, OUTWIT ME, BUT NEVER **_**LOVE**_** ME**

…

.A Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction.

* * *

Day One.

* * *

I gained consciousness in the darkness. _Did I go blind...? Was the electricity shock that strong? _Dread washed over me as I felt my eyes start to get watery. I would never see Chelsie, or my uncle, or my dog again. I would never see color, and light. But most importantly, I would never be able to _read_ again. Guilt and desperation filled over me, as I raised my hand before my eyes and felt hard leather.

"...well that was stupid." I muttered, and pulled the edge of my leather jacket off of me. I brushed my dampened eyes with embarrassment and thanked god that at least no one was there and hear me talk out my thoughts. Sitting up I looked around me. It was still snowing, but it was pitch black. I could only see snow.

My legs had gone numb and lame from being in the same rather painful position for what probably was a few hours, judging from my watch. I stretched them out slowly before standing up and resting my hand on the side of the wall, unconsciously narrowly missing the broker again. I tapped the switch. It was stone cold, so the electricity probably died for sure. I sighed. _Now I have to do without electricity for three days...I hope I can make a campfire still..._ I thought to myself as I walked slowly to the other side of the house and opened the door. "Chelsie?"

The reply was total silence. "Chelsie! Are you there?" I searched through all the rooms, and even in the closet. Chelsie had disappeared. My first response was to call the police, but the phone was dead from no electricity. Shaking my thoughts away of her going into the blizzard searching for me and never coming back, I grabbed my cell phone, water, a compass, few bags of chips, matches and a lighter, then shoved them into a small backpack along with some other things before leaving. I had also stuffed in several sets of clothes for Chelsie to change into and also for myself. If we got lost in the forest, we would be able to burn the extra clothes to make a smoke signal. Checking if I had my house keys, I grabbed the dried scarf and beanie from the laundry and slipped into the darkness.

Turning the flashlight on, I found the road near my cottage and followed it. If lost, the first thing to do was to follow the road. However, while I followed the road I noticed something different. The trees seemed rather larger then I thought them to be, and looked different overall. Perhaps the snow was so packed the size looked different. I also noticed that I was walking downwards. But I knew that something was up when I halted and looked at the road in front of me in disbelief.

Or rather, what was lacking.

There was no more road. In front of me lay a large...barren landscape. It seemed that the end of the woods was sudden, and beyond that was just a barren landscape with a dirt road, almost unseen by the naked eye from the darkness. There was lesser snow, now more-so ice as I slowly took a step forward into the dirt road. It seemed colder suddenly, and I shivered for the first time. The woods with snow were warmer, but I hadn't seen Chelsie since. Turning back to look at the woods one last time, I saw a white fox dart from one side of the road to another and disappear into the trees. Chelsie was waiting. I turned back to the brownish black landmass and continued to walk.

At first, it got boring. Although I knew that I was supposed to be looking out for Chelsie, I could see the horizon. And as far as the horizon was beyond the mountains, there was no sign of life. None. Placing one foot in front of the other, all I could do was watch around for her while trying to warm my hands with friction.

It was a good hour before I started to feel, that something was looking at me. I turned around at the tree nearby with no leaves and looked at it good before turning around again and continuing what I had done for what seemed like forever. I felt it again, and this time it wasn't behind me. It was all around me and inside me as I felt a chill down my spine, but not from the temperature. It wasn't bothering when someone usually watched me, but this..._presence_ was downright spooky. I whipped my head around behind me, and saw something that froze the blood in my heart to the core.

It was large, black, and hairy. From it's mouth were razor sharp fangs that seemed like they were sharpened. The breath was fogged but in my eyes they seemed like white fire. There was something wrapped around it's head that made it look big and terrifyingly ugly. Green eyes shone in the darkness behind the moonlight giving the silhouette of a very, large, dog. It's sleek black coat shined a menacing silver in the moonlight. And it was staring right at me.

We stared at each other forever, til I heard a faint whistle, like a mocking bird and the black dog started to run towards me. I, at the same time snapped back into conscious and started running the other way. I had lost all sense of direction as I finally found myself almost reaching what seemed like a house. Jumping over the fence, I banged on the door like a mad man, too scared to speak. There was a short flight of steps behind the door and a woman opened it slowly looking at me quite dangerously.

"Miss, it is very late at night." I looked at her with terrified eyes before I spoke between gasps of air.

"Chased…by a large hound." The words seemed to have worked their magic. A thin but strong arm yanked me inside the house and slammed the door shut. The woman's face had paled at the moment I said hound as she pulled me to the living room, came back with a mug of warm soup and sat me down on a chair. I drank the steaming broth gratefully as the color returned to my cheeks and looked at her. She was still pale as a ghost.

"Miss... You've seen a hound. What was it like?"

"Large…Black but shined silver. It wore a strange…thing on it's head that made it's eyes glow. Metal claws and weird things on it's feet to make it seem larger that's for sure... and the teeth were filed to be sharp and blade-like." The woman wavered as I reached to catch her before she fell to the ground.

"Thank you... but you must leave instantly before my brother comes." The woman said and looked at my clothes again, this time with a strange look. "...Are you from around here?"

"No not really. I came here to-" was all I could say before my mouth was covered by her hand again.

"He's here! Quickly! Out the window! Get away from here!" I climbed out the window and as soon as she closed it, the door banged open and a low voice said slowly.

"...who was that."

"Who was who?" I hid behind the bushes next to the window as the pane was thrown up violently and a pale face looked back and forth before closing it. The woman calmly added. "It must be the moor."

"The moor is not something to be feared of, it's something to be used correctly and nothing will be feared of it. Speaking of the moor, I saw someone at the moor tonight. It seemed like a young man." I gulped nervously and killed my breath. "It was too bad that he was a fast runner. Gone over the hills before the Hound could get to him. The Hound is still a yearling perhaps."

"That is…that is too bad."

"Indeed! However, the fellow must've had quite a fright; his cry was most feminique! Goodnight, my dear." The man laughed as his footsteps thus became lighter and faded away. The window slowly opened as the woman looked around for me.

"Right here, good miss." She jumped at my words, then pushed a parcel into my hands.

"Sandwiches. Now I suggest you go straight to that large mansion over there and take the train to London. The man of the mansion is a rich and kind fellow, and he will most likely give you comfort and warmth that is not available here. It is most safest in London, my brother will surely not find you in that cesspool." I was baffled at her kindness but now wasn't the time to take it with doubt. She looked at me then, with a searching face and spoke quietly. "Why were you out there last night?"

"I... was looking for a friend. She got lost, so I went searching for her."

"Oh bless your soul that you were saved from him and his hound! Never come back to Dartmoor, for he surely will remember the voice of his first victim and I will pray that you never come back!"

"Thank you." I stood and briefly hugged her, which made her freeze for a while, then flush a bright red before she ushered me off into the dark streets. It was about a half hours walk to the mansion. After knocking on the door, a maid answered in which I said that a kind lady had told me of this house's owner being a gentlemen, and she let me in rather reluctantly and skeptically of my ways.

"Sir Baskerville will see you shortly."

* * *

March 18th

* * *

"Mr. Mycroft I can't possibly do this to you!" I exclaimed as I looked at the man before me in disbelief.

"Don't take my actions so lightly my dear Chelsie, after a month of contemplating, it is only...elementary." I cracked a smile at his joke, and then frowned.

"Don't throw me off with your sly remarks Mr. _Holmes_. I can't possibly be taken care of myself under you." Mycroft shrugged his shoulders slightly before taking a sip from his brandy.

"The paper works are already done. What is only left, your signature and your new state. By surname of Holmes, if you don't mind that is." I looked at him incredulously. For the past two months I had been under the wing of Mycroft Holmes being kept as an apprentice to... the household. I had learned know and how of a stable boy to the catering of the head maid. Yes the head maid Mrs. Marie was baffled at myself, but Mr. Mycroft himself had been rather amused so everything was let go. I especially enjoyed the library work however. The books were just like how I dreamed them too become in 1800 England.

Not quite like the romances in modern America. They weren't quite also like...Pride and Prejudice either. There was no Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, but Mycroft Holmes and Mrs. Marie. Both were equally kind to me, and I was grateful to them for their patience in me getting used to the atmosphere and other things, especially dress code. Corsets were a painful task that took a good three weeks to get used to. On the bright side, now I can show Lisa that even girls of now would be able to get curves like girls of then. Just that even though I was of now, was currently in then making now in the future. I had told this to Mr. Mycroft, who laughed aloud with tears in his eyes holding his hand over his head.

I think it was then, that I started to realize him watching me with a more interested look in his eyes. He made a superb uncle, and although I couldn't follow his philosophies completely, I saw half-through it unlike the others in the household that couldn't get through the beginning. And now, he was asking me to be his adopted daughter.

"As much as I would love to be your daughter Mr. Mycroft I still...love my family. I will never see them again, but I want, more then anything to keep my family name." Mycroft Holmes made a serious face, as I stopped talking. I knew what he meant, and smiled adding. "However, I most likely couldn't go very far in meeting my friend that I haven't seen since I was brought here. I know...she has to be here in this world somewhere..."

"You expect to find her through being my daughter?" I laughed, as I nodded giving my new father a puzzled look.

"Well Mr. Holmes, I know my friend through and through. And it is sure that the first thing she will ask, is for assistance by your brother."

"From Sherlock?"

"Yes. From Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I **_JUST _**finished watching Sherlock Holmes and the Leading Lady, along with the Incident at Victoria Falls.

I. LOVED. IT. The Christopher Lee version showed a more...delicate Holmes, milded out by age. He was set at 56 I think, and Watson at 58.

I won't spoil the story but basically I thought that this Holmes was just utterly so...charming! I loved this Holmes the most, well, _fangirl_ wise. Please, now, kill me for saying that.

But I can't explain it. He was just the most perfect Sherlock Holmes for that AGE. I could imagine the Christopher Lee version marrying Mary Russell, in her series. It all came together in my brain.

The many Sherlock Holmes movies I have seen from Basil Rathborne to Christopher Lee. I have loved all for being like Holmes. Basil Rathborne was a younger Christopher Lee. He didn't have the deep thought of age get to him, and work was all he thought of, but also with the same charm and persona as the old Holmes. When I first saw Christopher Lee, I crinkled at the thought of him being old, due to my...er...fanatics. HOWEVER, after watching the Incident at Victoria Falls first I fell in love once more with Sherlock Holmes. I think that the Christopher Lee version has not matured my love for a fictious character but deepened it even more. Well in a sense my love matured, but it also made me fall even more and unconditionally more for his personality.

Damn it Doyle!


	7. February14 Day56

Awaited Series is back up!! well, not so much awaited actually. But I appreciate the few number of people who are reading my Sherlock Holmes series and hopefully, the new Chapter will be supplemental to their thirst for the continuing..

**Foggy Knight:** Thank you so much for reading along, I really appreciate it! Yes! Hound of Baskervilles! Personally my second most favorite Holmes story, right next to the Empty House and the Second Stain. Aha! There lies the question...was it really only a matter of months before she impressed the brother of the detective? :}

**HSOTL:** The hound~ 3 I love the Hound. If I ever had a second dog after my current one, I'd find one just like it! (bounces around with excitement) Haha, you know me all too well my dear.

_Alert! All references that I disclaim as not my original ideas are italicized and given a † as a marking. _

February, 14th 1878

It was with the help of Erik the stable boy that I had been able to stay at Mr. Mycroft Holmes house for so long. It was after a week of rest and comfort when I was given a very, very long interrogation of where I came from and why I was in the forest at all, and what I was going to do now. I had no means of lying to him, so I decided to tell him the truth, however improbable it seemed. I remember standing by the end of Mr. Mycroft's luxurious office desk, nervously holding the hem of my skirt as I waited for the reply. I expected everything, anything as the reply to my explanation.

The man drew a long drag from his cigar and after exhaling deeply, furrowed his brows and leaned back into his chair, watching me with those intellectual dark eyes. Eyes that Lisa would have loved, but on the wrong person. "My dear..." He started. "I believe that you are not telling the truth. However!" He raised a hand when I started to open my mouth and took another drag from his cigar. I watched him nervously as he introspected me carefully, and continued again.

"I also believe that you aren't that foolish of a person to trick your savior from a near-death experience in the middle of the French Snowlands. I firstly drew my conclusion of sending you to Scotland yard, or the French Militia to take care of you..but that would lead you to a orphanage, and then as a maid for the rest of your life, even as a prostitute." Mr. Mycroft laughed lightly as he watched my face slowly turn blue. "Oh don't be ridiculous my dear, I was just teasing! I have noticed in this past week after finding you, that you are very intellectual, especially about English literature and can even understand foreign political affairs on par with an average gentleman; not something a girl your age should, and could do normally. It would be a waste of intelligence to lose you to the French Orphanage, and have you work your life in the _Moulin Rouge†_. Although I have no means of keeping you as my daughter, I am not a terribly poor man, and Rebecca has needed assistance of her maid chores." I also remembered that out of the happiness and extremity of it all, I had glomped him, and was terribly scolded by Rebecca afterwards. I forgot for a moment that although I was living with them, they were still very _old_ people in my terms.

I spent the winter in France with Rebecca and Erik while Mr. Mycroft Holmes would leave now and then to travel with his friends and go back to the government for meetings and such. The first month was very quiet, as I realized that Erik did not like to talk much, and Rebecca had been taken to England back with Mr. Holmes. It was very mysterious addressing Mr. Mycroft as Mr. Holmes, simply because I knew another Mr. Holmes more then Mr. Mycroft Holmes indirectly through Lisa. Remembering her was painful; here I was, in the world that she always longed to be in, and I had left her alone. I didn't even know if she was here with me in this same world or still back in our world. Sherlock Holmes didn't exist in our world, anyway. Guilt caused me to isolate myself from the others for a while, until Rebecca forced me to join her in buying groceries at the morning market early one day. "It will be good to get out for once! Although you won't need a tan, fresh air would be nice!" I had noticed that Asians, even more so my ethnic Asian race were very rare in these times and the stares were painful and embarrassing. "Oh! Looking is for free!" Rebecca laughed brightly as her auburn hair bounced on her shoulders. My first outing got me to get out of the house more often, but never out to the towns. I stayed in the gardens, or in the stables reading away at the books Mr. Mycroft had in his library. It was a warm June midsummer.

By autumn and winter, Mr. Mycroft had taken a short and noble break from his governmental job, and stayed with us in France. We went to see Opera's and attend Parties, but not as often as I thought. He was a more quiet, and composed man, who was sociable only when he needed to. I had asked him once if his brother was like him, and to this Mycroft Holmes answered with a mild tone of humor while looking up from his paperwork.

"Sherlock has intelligence for anything related to his line of _work_ and interest. However, for everything else he finds them to be utterly unimportant and useless to acquire. He is sociable, but only when he needs to be."

"So in essence you two have the same qualities."

"Of course, we are brothers." My lips curved upwards as I leaned against the door, looking at my host.

"However, may I note Mr. Mycroft, that you haven't yet listed your differences with your younger brother." Mycroft smiled under his pipe and took a long drag.

"Sherlock...has a tendency to be happier from the quality of work then quantity. Rarely will he take any cases that do not give him...gusto." I could've said that the words he said would pertain to him too, but alas, he was keeping me alive so I had no choice to smile back and say nothing. He probably read my mind, for he chuckled before going back to his paperwork.

Such conversations like these were frequent, and although I enjoyed talking with Rebecca, talking with Mr. Mycroft was..more interesting, however short they lasted. His longer conversations with me regarded of foreign politics and economics, business ideas, etc. that I had learned from high school and read in his private library. His private library was small, but still filled with interesting books about philosophy and science, law and British Literature. My major was literature for college, and I was able to follow along slightly, but more then an average woman at that time. To this Mr. Mycroft was pleased greatly, and of the handful of conversations we would have in a week, half would be about those special topics. I never asked about his work however, as he never told me, and it didn't matter. Other conversations would be with Rebecca.

Rebecca, the second maid in the household was a young woman in her late twenties with auburn hair and brown eyes. She had a mild storm of freckles on her rosy cheeks and slightly underweight. Her dimples when smiling made her easy to talk and befriend, and Gossip conversations would usually be with Rebecca, even though Rebecca would mostly be the one talking. I never felt awkward around her, and to my guess, being like that was only natural.

Erik, the stable boy, was tall, dark, and handsome. He was 22, according to Rebecca and confirmed with his nodding. He was also mute, and lost his voice to a high fever when he was a infant. Although he had no deformed face and underground organ labyrinth†, he was a very mysterious and phantomized person. I became friends with him through reading aloud, the books I had borrowed from Mr. Mycroft in the stables while he worked. Erik was a complete gentleman, and would always be listening while doing his work. Whenever there was time, he would sometimes, though rarely, take me out to trail rides and give me lectures through hand gestures of how to groom and tack a horse. From these three people was I able to learn to break into my new culture. And finally, at Valentines Day, 1878, Mr. Mycroft had suggested to adopt me as his daughter, to which I accepted. A week later, I changed my name to Cherice Mycroft Holmes, adopted daughter of Mycroft Holmes.

Day 56

"Let me go!" I screamed as my nails dug into the back of the thief who had held me captive. "Let me go right now or I'll cut your balls off and feed them to hellhounds!!"

"Madamoiselle, you have quite the American sharp tongue! Equally quick witted as well!"

"Don't patronize me!" The robber smiled as he kissed my hand. Disgusted, I pulled back, which was probably what the robber wanted me to do, for he changed position and slung me over his shoulder. Gasping in surprise, anger welled up before shock, and I started to scream again, only softer. "You...why don't you let me go!"

"Because Madamoiselle, had I left you for Inspector Zenigata, it would have ended more then an interrogation for you. Trying to steal the golden diamond before me..truly, quick witted!"

"I wasn't trying to steal it! You tried to switch it with fakes so I stopped you and was running to the police!"

"The police were the other way."

"Screw you." The man whistled as he adjusted his monocle and furrowed his eyebrows in slight disgust at my language. Sneering in shallow victory I saw the scenery change from a dark alleyway, to a car, which I was placed inside. All at once, I started to fear. Where was this man taking me? The man who had abducted me saw my face and with a smile, replied reassuringly.

"Do not worry, you will not be harmed. However, such a feisty beauty as you should never be left out in the streets any longer!" Stopping short, I turned around, baffled. How did he know that I had been living in the streets all this time? As if reading my mind again the man answered. "With clothes such as yours, no ordinary girl of your age would waste her time in the streets; she would either be begging for a spot in the moulin rogue, or the opera house as a ballet rat, or selling her body elsewhere. You seem to be in peculiar clothes, shorter hair for a woman in this years fashion, and wears no perfume. You also..do not have the complexion of a ballet rat." I glared at him as he raised his hands in return. I wasn't hating him for his insult like compliment like explanation, but more so that he was deducing me straight through like..the person I was traveling to meet.

"Stop acting like Sherlock Holmes." All at once, the man's face hardened and his face whipped towards my direction as I jolted, slightly. He opened his mouth slightly as if to say something, then closed it again, and resumed silence for the rest of the car ride. Reaching his villa, I was escorted by a maid into a guest room where I was forced to change into female clothes. My old attire was washed carefully as I was then escorted into the dining room, where Lupin waited. As we ate, we continued in silence, and it began to bite at me. It was only when the main dish started that Lupin opened his mouth.

"You know...Sherlock Holmes?" Rolling my eyes in the anticipated remark I replied sardonically.

"Not directly, but yes. I know him well enough to recite his quirks and works."

"Interesting. Now I cannot let go of you even more!"

"What!?" Lupin chuckled at my red face as I fumed at him.

"Forgive me, I have failed to introduce myself. My name is-" I raised my voice, interrupting him as I rolled my eyes and replied in a sardonic posture.

"Do you think I'm a fool, Arsené Lupin? The amount of Inspectors after you and your rather flashy attire for a thief can only name one person in all of France." Lupin smiled back showing his pearly whites as he kissed my hand again. "That and your irritating French ways my friends seems to favor by calling...kick ass."

"Madamoiselle, your words are like music to my ears." For just a moment, the journal raced through my head, as I looked at him. Was the journal really true? Did he steal me really because I was stealing too, or for a different reason.. "And your name is, sweet lily?" Looking at Lupin, I laid down my bet, and replied coldly.

"My name is, Amery." Silverware crashed to the floor as Lupin stared at me with wide eyes. I looked back at him, trying to maintain my cool face, waiting for his next words, even though his actions had proven my theory. This was really the world where I had found my journal. But then where was my ancestor?


	8. Day 56

Day 56

"..A very sly joke, my delicate Eastern flower." His eyes were cold, as he looked upon me. "I do not know where and when you learned that name, but I must advise you not to tease me." His hands quietly released the knife he was holding as I sighed in shrugged my shoulders.

"..Fine. Amery is my grandmother. Or my ancestor, I don't really know." I could tell he was dubious, and for a good reason too. I shrugged my shoulders and raised an eyebrow. "I'm telling you the truth; I called myself Amery to see if the diary I had found was true, and that she wasn't making any fable story up about being in the love interest between the world's greatest detective, and thief." To this he smiled and loosened up, setting the cane back on the side of the dinner table that he had grasped. I sighed and took another bite out of my dinner. "Even though I rather Sherlock Holmes, then a robber any day."

"I am greatly complimented." Rolling my eyes again, I set my fork down and crossed my fingers over the table.

"But...there's one thing I'd like to ask..What exactly happened to my ancestor, Amery, after the well, you know, the night?" His fork stopped once more as Lupin watched his food for a while. "....hey-"

"She was murdered, lady. Monsueir Holmes was waiting below and I had been waiting in my room, for I knew that she would at least come to me and explain her thoughts, but the sun rose, and she never did. We proceeded to her room and found her, lying across the room, or, what used to be her."

"What do you mean?"

"This is not a very appetizing tale to talk about my Eastern-"

"WHAT. Did you two see?"

"...Her body was tenderly lain in the bathtub. Water overflowed, as she had her arms crossed and her dress flowing as if she were a mermaid, Ophelia as she floated in her red sea. On the wall she had written," Lupin stopped as he stood up, having lost his appetite completely now. Then again, so had I. "She had written, _to the fairest of fair, my blood will return to your heart. keep faith, and do not lose it again._ If you are truly, the ancestor of Amery, or her relative, you are of her blood, and you have returned to me. I fear that you are in danger."

"Me? In danger? Hahahahaaa." I chuckled as I raised my hands. "I've never had a cavity, or broken a bone. I've never been threatened to be killed or was in any form of large accident; the most that's ever happened to me was my mom bruising my neck due to a light wrestle and I had a neck brace for lets see...four to five days? And now I'm going to get killed just like that?" I snapped my fingers, and snorted. "Give me a break. I've had a Devil May Care personality, but I was never in mortal danger."

"..you may be thinking too lightly."

"I may be. But my life has no matter if I don't meet Chelsie. Meeting you was just..a lucky coincidence. You can help me look for her, she's probably in this world just like me, and maybe even more so lost."

"You have someone like you in this world also, surrounded by strange technological things and a queer American accent?" I scowled at him as he mildly smiled, and grabbed his coat. "Well then, as a gentleman, I must assist you in finding her; so that if whomever killed my love doesn't go after you, he won't switch targets."

"...Oh. My. God." I dropped the plate the maid had given me filled with sweets to take to the room, and they shattered with a brilliant dance across the floor, breaking into a million pieces. The maid shrieked as she hurried to gather the pieces up with several other maids running to clean the mess. I stood there frozen as Lupin looked back at me, with an expected face. "Oh. My. God." I had never realized that Chelsie was in danger now. Even if she wasn't blood related to me, we had both come to the old world, and both could have a chance. He strode across the hall and grabbed my arm, as we walked away from the shattered glass, into the dining room as he turned around and grasped my shoulders gently and shook me a little. I snapped out of shock and looked at him helplessly.

"Do you have any idea where she might go to?"

"I have no idea. She was interested in the Phantom of the Opera a while back, but that was in Sophomore year mostly and before that..And I don't think she'd be in France, well, I don't know anything!" I scratched my hair furiously as Lupin gently grabbed my wrist and freed my poor messed up hair.

"Does she know anything about you?"

"Well...she does know that I like Sherlock Holmes.." Lupin thought for a while, then nodded.

"Then we shall go to him."

"What?!"

"Your friend, supposedly, is in this same time period as you have mysteriously gotten into. This world, filled with mysteries may not be as kind to her, as it was to you. She will then think of what may have possibly got her here in the first place and the first thing she will come into mind is the diary of Amelia. She will then either come for me, or for Sherlock Holmes. Seeing that you have a fancy towards the latter, she may decide to go to London. The best deal, is to wait for her there. She might be there already, and may be waiting for your coming." I looked at him, my mouth open as Lupin raised his other hand off of my shoulder and gently closed it. "I shall send a letter to Monsueir Holmes, asking of any girl called Chelsie in his accquaintance, and we shall depart in a weeks worth."

"A week!? Why can't we leave tomorrow?!"

"Because." Lupin turned around to face me, and laughed. "You will not go far in that attire without grabbing any unnecessary attention, and I must find a ways to get you a fake name, and excuse to get you into the country."

"..oh."


End file.
